


Depression Suppression

by thegirlwholoveshorror



Series: Don't Stop Smoking And Drinking [5]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Altered States, Alternate Universe - Army, Alternate Universe - College/University, Darkness Around The Heart, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt Jensen Ackles, Love Triangles, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Misunderstandings, New York City, Running Away, Self-Harm, Suburbia, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwholoveshorror/pseuds/thegirlwholoveshorror
Summary: 'Tears are simply the raindrops from the storms inside of us.' — Unknown





	Depression Suppression

November 9 2010

Jensen's flew open, and he gasped. Confused and scared, his heart pounded in his chest as his eyes darted quickly around the room that he was in: the room was pitch black. Picture this: he was in his bedroom, stretched out across on his bed with music still playing on the earphones in his ears.

The feeling of this everyday occurrence was an awful one for Jensen: every time he woke up after a night of heavy drinking like this, it felt like he was waking up after having died and been buried, and he had to dig and crawl his way out of his grave. It felt like he had been torn apart and he now had to stitch himself back together, just to get through another day. People depended on him when the daylight was out, after all.

His family expected the world of him...

He exhaled slowly then winced when he noticed that he could still taste the **vodka** , red wine and rum from the night before, and the sheets under him were soaked through and through. In his drunken stupor from the night before, he must have once again spilt one of his bottles of liquor over his bed sheets, sometime after he passed out after drinking himself into a damn near coma in bed, just basically trying to kill the pain. He took another breath then rolled over to the other side of the bed. Leaning his head back into his pillow as he turned to gaze out the window, he let his sight settle on the lit cross of a store's sign, right across the street from his apartment. Tears started to trickle down from the corners of his eyes: he let them fall as they may. Here, in the darkness of his room, he could let his emotions go. He could be himself. Out there, he had to keep it all inside. He was so lonely that it hurt. It had gotten so bad that, now, he could only ever find solace in drinking and smoking...

All so suddenly, Jensen's memories came crashing back in: reality slammed into him with all its gravity like a freight train, the euphoria gained from last night's alcohol consumption long gone and faded. Jensen thanked the heavens that he was laying down for this. After all, this is what Jensen had been reduced to: breathless, shaky and weak, he spent his nights drinking and listening to music, alone and contemplating death. Lost in his grief, sorrow, horror and pain, he contemplated his downfall with cold fear. Jensen couldn't even see past tomorrow now...

Bringing both of his hands to his head, he buried them in his hair. He was losing his mind and had lost his way in life. It felt like there was nothing he could do about it. He had no future to look forward to: no hope, no peace... On top of that, he was embroiled in a huge scandal. And so, Jensen had a lot to agonise over. Ergo, his thoughts caressed the images of ruin and destruction...

On the **surface** though, he was keeping it together. He had to. People depended on him.

Tilting his head back, Jensen stared up at the dark ceiling, collecting his thoughts. All he could think about now was Jared, and, with every thought of Jared, his heart broke and skipped a beat at the same time.

A jumble of feelings coursed through him. Childish and immature, Jared was like the liquor he drank every night: strong and deadly. He wasn't sweet and loving like he had been back at the start when Jensen had first met him: he was anything but that. Jensen cared about Jared a lot: he wanted to fix things with him - or at least stand up for himself and get things out in the open with him in doing so -, but, somehow, he couldn't find the strength or the **energy** to face an unforgiving as well as furious Jared and he was scared shitless of all the things that were left unspoken between them. Jared acted now like he wanted to kill him. It was obvious that he had done something to upset him.

But, what right had Jared to be angry with him? Why was he being so unreasonable? Jensen had always been so nice to Jared.

So then, all in all, Jensen was forced to nurture these ill-feelings, and they were eating him up inside.

With an exercise of will, he pushed himself up with his elbows and looked at his clock: 6 AM. He had to get up soon because he was working at 8 AM. Clenching his jaw against the urge to panic, Jensen collapsed back into his sheets. He felt dazed. No one at his job liked him because he was in school. His family had always hated him because he was different from them. To make matters worse, Jared was now treating him like a **dog**...

God, everything was so fucked up. And seriously, Jensen didn't want to show up for work today. His will to live was at an all-time low. But his colleagues from work would kill him if he didn't show up for this day's shift, and he would probably lose his job if he did that. They could be as awful as they wanted, but God forbid that Jensen even strayed a little from their resolution. Not to mention, they were looking for reasons to screw him over. They'd have him destroyed in a heartbeat if he did anything wrong; anger and jealousy boiling in their blood like water in a kettle, they'd have his balls in a vice faster than you can say, 'Campbell's Soup'. However, that didn't stop them from stealing from him whenever they could...

Regardless, Jensen really needed the money. Already, he was starving himself just to have enough money to pay his rent. To make matters worse, his addictions to alcohol and cigarettes had grown since Jared had broken whatever was left of his spirit. Now, he needed these things to numb his loneliness as well as the pain that he felt every day and to block out all the vile hatred that was sent his way, so it finally left his memory altogether.

Perhaps Jensen was strange because of this; but, to Jensen, it's the world that needed fixing and changing...

Blinking and adjusting his gaze, Jensen smoothed his hands over the filthy sheets beneath him. Then, sluggishly, he pressed his palms against his eyes until he saw little twinkling lights behind his eyelids. These were the only stars Jensen got to see these days.

Angrily swiping at the rapidly falling tears now streaming from his eyes, Jensen sighed, then gave up on that in favour of rolling over onto his side... He pulled his knees into his stomach then reached his hand under his pillow as he dozed off. Then and there, he gripped the blue lighter that Jared had given him just a couple of months ago. He had given it to him on one of those fateful warm summer nights that they had spent together out in the country, under the stars. It was now under the pillow that cushioned his head: a reminder of the good times they once shared.

This is what Jensen wanted: he wanted to be left alone. No doubt about it, he was a failure. He was going **nowhere** ; no one really cared about him.

He had wanted to give Jared his heart on October Eighth; instead of taking it though, Jared had gone and taken a massive shit on it instead.

 

November 18 2010

Jensen was working an eight-hour shift. It was three hours into his shift when Jared came in. The skies were grey, and it was rainy.

Jensen was leaning over to pick up two twenty-four packs of beer when Jared all but jumped on him from his side, startling him by appearing as if out of nowhere. Eager and shaking in excitement like a puppy seeing his master, he smiled brightly at Jensen. “Jensen! Hi, man. How are you-”

Jensen's breath was cut off like a light switch. “I have to bring these back into the...”

Only throwing a quick glance Jared's way, Jensen picked up the two twenty-four packs of Bud and backed away quickly into the back store.

A look of sheer anger crossed Jared's face at this. Jesus Christ; if looks could **kill** , then Jensen would be dead.

Jared was not what he seemed. Jensen was convinced that he had to be bipolar or have some sort of oppositional disorder.

In the back store, Jensen all but fell to the floor in a heap; he sat there for about ten minutes before one of his colleagues from the workplace came to get him. Back to the wall, breathing deeply and clutching his knees, he willed his mind to ignore the shock and pain.

 

December 21 2010

Jensen stood at a Sears' counter; his brow etched with stress, he fidgeted. He just wanted to get through to the cash and then be done with this day, but he was third in line. Two blondes stood in front of him, most likely buying gifts for their loved ones because it was Christmas time.

He was at the mall of his hometown. The atmosphere was merry: decorations adorned the whole place, and the music playing was cheery...

Jensen fought the urge to punch himself in the face. He did not want to be home for the holidays, but his family had insisted on it.

Earlier that day, Jensen had purchased two bottles of vodka and three bottles of sleeping pills. Now, he was in line to buy over a hundred dollars' worth of knives. They were nice knives, and Jensen liked them quite a lot. The handle of each one of them was a different colour...

 **Right then,** little did Jensen know that he would begin a tradition that year, and it was a tradition that would go on for him for the next six years: each ear until the Christmas of 2016, he would put himself into a damn near alcohol-induced coma on Christmas Eve.

**Author's Note:**

> I won't be updating this story again for a long while. Peace out, my lovelies! x
> 
> P.S. Feedback is love, light and all things beautiful. :)


End file.
